


The Old, The Dying, And the Dead

by HeckyJecky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Havanic day lol, Mentions of Fatal Illness, Multi, Wow this took long enough, as far as im aware this is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 19:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16939416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeckyJecky/pseuds/HeckyJecky
Summary: Uhhhh so i finally finished this fic of our troll sessions favourite ancestor, the man, the myth, the legend, The Insurgent dying





	1. Chapter 1

The hive felt empty and was ridden with the stench of death. No matter how many pieces of fine drapery, small playful ornate cat figures, paintings, and happy photographs lined the halls of her private abode, all they did was remind you that today was not a day for rejoicing. Well, maybe a little.

Three days ago you were informed of The Entertainer’s (your sworn enemy in the business of celebrations) upcoming death. She had contracted an incurable virus named “havanic” from a planet far off in the universe while entertaining a new found colony of sentient beings your race would most certainly destroy or enslave in the coming solar sweeps, and had been rapidly regressing since. Had it been anyone else you would have ignored the invitation to their deathbed. You cannot waste your time with trivial lowbloods or highbloods whose opinions soon will not matter. But this was your arch rival. Someone who you had known closely, albeit negatively for countless sweeps. 

In the strangest way possible, you felt compelled to honour her request.

You walked through familiar halls, clean white walls with sharp golden accents that glistened no matter how many sweeps passed, heading into a wing unbeknownst to you. There was an overbearing sense of finality that clawed at your shoulders as your hand moved to turn the knob on the large set of closed doors in front of you. You knew this was the correct wing to enter because of the astonishingly rusted plaque that embellished the glossy dark wood behind it. You once asked her where she got it. The answer was just as ominous as the plaque itself. She had purchased it from an old homeless troll during her childhood, had not a penny to his name. She’s disgustingly charitable. You wonder if it’s genuine sometimes.

==> Hedonist: Read the plaque.

And you thoght twar was grim.

“Tis strange that death should sing.  
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,  
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,  
And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings  
His soul and body to their lasting rest."

Yeesh.

==> Hedonist: Open the door already.

Alright, alright. You’re getting to it.

You firmly grasp the door handle and push it open with gusto! ...only to find a crowd of grieving lowbloods and a few somber-looking high society nobles you regularly see at her parties. Clearly not the time for a drastic entrance, your mistake... Sauntering towards a confused public, you lift your invitation out of your suit jacket and display it until the crowd appeared satisfied. Your feet stop at the front of the door and await entry.

And wait. And wait.

You turn to meet a meek-looking lowblood, tiny compared to your stature. A shrimp. You nod towards the door, only to be met with a cautious shake of the head. "My- My Apologies, sir.” You can feel the fear radiating off of his words. You don't blame him. An annoyed highblood military veteran with scars cut into every inch of his body is certainly something to be wary of. “I, uhm, we have been ordered not to- not to, um, take orders at this time, sir.” You roll your eyes and turn to open the door to the protest of the boy behind you.

==> Hedonist: Open the door, again

You opened the door at what is clearly the wrong time. Again. There lies your hostess, the soon-to-be-late Kaahko on her deathbed, between two women. One a jade and one a cerulean. Her smile is faltering and broken, and she's evidently holding back tears. Her breath is heavy and hitched. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. They turn to stare at you, and The Entertainer clearly resigns herself from the conversation, taking a moment to gather her thoughts and composure.

“Well… I- Thank you.” Her voice sounds hoarse and pained. “Thank you two for coming to see me. I understand this was dangerous for you, and I value the time and effort. I suppose this is goodbye U- Jadequill. Goodbye to you as well, Silkwing. I wish you luck and... Fortune. In your future and relationship.” The room goes still for a moment. The jade extends a hand for the cerulean, and the cerulean stands up from a chair at the bedside. Her hand slowly slips out of The Entertainer’s, and you step to the side to make room for their exit. You don’t dare turn until the doors click shut once more.

==> Hedonist: Question an old friend.

You turn and open your mouth to ask a question, but stop once you see the emptiness in her eyes. An unfamiliar emptiness. It scares you. She gently turns her head, staring unfocused through a nearby window. You move to the seat previously mentioned and sit beside her. You say nothing as tears roll down her cheeks. 

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t know of the intoxicating emotion we call love.” She speaks in a far clearer tone but doesn’t turn to look at you. “... I’m not aware of what that feels like.” You answer honestly. You can’t remember ever becoming sincerely attached to anyone your whole life. People come, people go. “Of course you don't, idiot.” She scoffs. “You’re far too lucky for that.”

Once she looks at you, you pay more attention to her features. Her skin is sickly and pale, her fins droop, and she has pronounced bags under her eyes, which stare blankly into your own. Her face is a soft violet from what you assume is a fever, her long black hair is unkempt and she’s thinner than you remember. She shivers sporadically, no matter how thick her bedding is and how uncomfortable the room feels. 

“I met her hundreds of sweeps ago. She’s just as beautiful as I remember. I spent one day and- well, night, red with her, and I haven’t forgotten her since. Her eyes, her voice… she means the world to me and I barely even know her. It’s… frustrating.” You nod, leaning closer to her bed. Might as well look interested. “It turns out that she is in… some form of relationship from my grubhood moirail. What a coincidence. And of course, you have to step in at just the right time. I have to figuratively and literally watch her slip out of my fingers… all.. over again.” She holds a forlorn look in her eyes, missing the spark you saw less than a month ago at the last party of hers you attended. Time truly is unforgiving, isn’t it? “At least I got to see her one last time.”

She lets out a soft sigh and attempts to gesture to you to move closer, but she barely has the strength to move her hand. It just jitters, lifts weakly about an inch. She isn’t used to moving you guess, she's been bedridden for days. You move your chair forward anyway. “May I ask why you called me of all people here?” It’s a genuine question, and the only question in your mind you feel confident asking. 

“What, old man? Can’t even bother to see an old partner in her dying hours? Er- well. I wouldn’t exactly say partner. I wanted to say thank you.” She chuckled softly. You feel a wave of relief as she lights up with a kind but exhausted grin. The tension in the room begins to unwind. “For what? The-“ She cuts you off with an attempted wave of the hand. “No, no. Not that.” “Good.” You smirk, and she shoots you a knowing look. “It’s the least you could have done for me, stealing my money and every chance you get.” 

==> Hedonist: Ascend.

You huff as she gestures you to approach the bedside table on the other side of the room. You decide to crawl over top of the bed, and she groans at the sudden change. She laughs as you turn and crawl up to her, and gently kicks your knees with her feet. 

“There isn’t lube in that drawer, get off-“   
“ I’m just teasing you.” 

You both laugh as she tries to force herself to lean towards you, but you press on her shoulder until she lies back down. “Oh, so now you don’t want me?” She jests. “You seem to want anything within arms rrAn-“ You zip your hand back to her shoulder to support her and jump back as she bursts out in a violent coughing fit. She shakes you off and points your attention back to the table. 

==> Hedonist: Snoop. 

You clamber off the bed and open the drawer as she grabs a rag beside her and places it over her mouth to catch everything while she coughs. In the drawer is… 

“Are… Are these all of the wallets you’ve stolen?” The question is a bit redundant, you know they are and she's still huffing to catch her breath, unable to answer. “They… Huff… They are. I have.. More- I kept all of them, didn’t know where to put them. I just…Huff... Placed the first of them here. Look the back left corner.” You shift the mound of empty wallets, most of which look like they have been lazily tossed in, but moving to where she directed you, you find a small white lusus leather wallet neatly tucked into a corner. “Is… Is This the first wallet you ever stole from me? The one I… Was it my wriggling day? From an official who helped me start my first party..? “

“No. I gave you this wallet because you had lost yours and needed a replacement. You never gave it back, so I stole it. It became somewhat of a tradition after that, clearly. The one you're referring to is in a separate drawer. I believe.” 

“You.. remember that?” You're at a bit of a loss for words. And memory. How many sweeps ago did she start doing this? Why in the world is she hoarding them like a dragon? “What? Gonna judge an old crone in her last day for being sentimental, old man?“

You roll your eyes at the second mention of the stupid, belittling nickname. “I ask someone for help up a flight of stairs once.” She chuckles somberly. “I always thought I’d be able to finish the collection. Come and loot it off of you after you piss off the wrong purpleblood or something.” She shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “Fat chance now, huh?” You set yourself back on the bed beside her. “Never have been one for formalities, Aiveas?” She winks. You cough awkwardly. “Aiveas? I… I haven’t heard that name in years.” She reaches for your hand, and you place it face up so she can hold it comfortably. You look away from her. 

==> Hedonist: Give a dying woman a parting gift. 

You reach into your pocket, submitting to your subconscious and deciding to do your (minimal) part in helping her die peacefully. “Here. I’m planning on switching to sylladexes now that I don’t have our reputation protecting my wallet. This is the last one. You can take it.” She lights up like a star. You open your wallet to remove the contents but stop as she chides you with short shushing sounds. “What?” You ask, “It’s not like you’ll be needing it for anything soon.” She gives you an exasperated look. You gently place the wallet down onto her chest and she slowly takes it into one hand, bringing it to her face and planting a kiss on it before flopping her arm back down onto the bed. She's so strange sometimes.

“Thank you, Aiveas. I realize I forgot to finish my sentence earlier. I wanted to thank you for a few things.” Her face suddenly because far more serious. Uh oh. “First, I’d like to thank for the years of fun you’ve provided me with. Competing within the industry has been challenging, but you always found a way to make it entertaining for both of us.” She pauses, analyzing her next words carefully. “Secondly, I’d like to thank you for being kind to me in my moments of need. I don’t like you, or the things you do And I'm certain the feeling is mutual. But... you’ve always been somewhat willing to… ‘respond’ to my wishes.” 

With the way she turns to look at you, pausing and biting her lip before she continues, you get the feeling this conversation won't be as pleasant for much longer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the climax lol

==> Hedonist: Reminisce.

You’ve had your fair share of fights with The Entertainer over the years. They ranged from silly squabbles about attire or wealth to snapping at each other in fits of rage. You’ve known for a long time that The Entertainer is a lowblood sympathizer, but frankly, you’ve never had enough grounds or proof to call her out as such. A part of you wishes you had. You would finally be on top after so much work... but you wonder if you’d truly enjoy it. Eventually, scraping everyone else under your boots like dirt on a rug gets boring.

And plus, if you had made one mistake, she would have torn you to shreds on the spot with the blackmail she has on you. She would have made an excellent Legislacerator had she been teal. You wonder where she's amassed it all over the years, but you don’t question it. You can’t fault her for it. Both of you have your fair share of sins, and you understand this well. 

==> Hedonist: Pay attention.

“And.. last of all. Thank you for not telling anyone.” She looks remorseful, but you recognize the spark in her eyes as something else. Contemplation, perhaps? “Telling anyone what? That you feel bad for scumbloods?” She cringes at the word, and you remind yourself to watch your tongue lest this conversation lead somewhere valuable. “Sorry. Lowbloods.”

“I… I thought you knew. I thought you’d figured it out years ago.” She hunches over and looks up at you quizzically. The feeling is mutual. You stand up off of the bed confused and surprised as her face slowly twists and contorts into something menacing. “I, I don’t understand. What am I supposed to know?”

“All of these years. All of these long, long years of fighting against a destructive force no cull party had seen before. All this time fighting against someone who made it so tantalizingly obvious. I’ve been waiting for you to mention it for centuries, and all along you had no idea.” She brandishes a smirk the likes of you’ve never seen before. Her eyes look hungry and vicious. Isn’t she supposed to be weak and dying? She certainly looks it. You back away slowly, stopping with you back to the wall.

==> Hedonist: Realize.

“You… No. You couldn’t be. YOU are the one who has been destroying parties? Cullings? Raids? Pillages, Trials, It’s all been….” Everything seems so clear to you all of a sudden. The lowblood sympathy. Why she had such a penchant for adopting rebellious lowbloods to work for her, only to have them suddenly be ‘corrected’, acting with kindness and grace. Elegance, even. Why she had a picture of a familiar looking man in a signless cape on the desk in her study that she insisted was a childhood friend. You braced yourself on a nearby windowsill to keep upright as memory upon memory came flooding back, all of the evidence you’ve collected but never been able to piece together arranged into the perfect puzzle. “You’re The Insurgent.” You stare at her as if the person you’re looking at is someone completely different. “Are you really that surprised, old man?” She has a point. Now that you’ve been told, it feels blatantly obvious. Like it always had been. Like you’ve known the whole time, but didn’t want to- wouldn’t admit it. You’re not surprised. Just shocked. Angry. “How did you do it?” You get the feeling you might be paler than her right now.

“A variety of things. Skill. Training. Money. Planning. Sources. People will do anything for the price, you know.” She slowly moves a hand to her chin. “I could do it all myself when we were younger, but as I got older it got harder and harder to move so fast and people- well, I thought people were starting to catch on. Clearly n-.” She bursts out into another coughing fit, and you internally refuse to offer her any help this time. You both sit in a stale, bitter silence. She slowly rests back into her deathbed, and you get comfortable with the idea of never being angrier in your life.

==> Hedonist: Try to accept.

You hate to admit it, but there’s nothing you can do now. You could kill her, but she’s already wasting away in front of you. There’s no point. Nothing you can do but accept all those years you wasted looking for someone who never truly existed in the first place. Not until now.

You find yourself sitting on her bedside again. Sitting in a stale silence. “Do you hate me?” She asks. “I thought I already did.” You answer.

“I meant moreso. Are you angry? Do you want to leave?” She sounds curious but hesitant. “Was this why you invited me here today? To make one last mockery of me straight to my face? To tell me something no one will ever believe so I have to suffer on with the knowledge for the rest of my-” She exhales sharply. “No, Hedonist. If you’d sit and continue listening like a good little grub-” The cooing voice she mimics makes you want to vomit. “I’d finish telling you why I invited you here today.” You silence yourself and wait. There are many things you want to say, but you’d be wasting your breath. She won’t listen to someone like you. “I’ve been waiting to confess this for so long.” She looks so blissful. Like the weight of the world is gone. Maybe that’s because she just handed it to you. “I’ve held this on my shoulders for sweeps… thank you for coming to listen. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but I’m certain you can understand why I refrained from doing so.” She turns to you expectantly. A million different ideas, insults and responses flash through your mind at once. “Do you judge me? For doing what I can to survive in a hostile environment such as this?” You ask.

==> Hedonist: Further escalate the situation.

“You and I both know you’ve been doing more than surviving all these years. You’ve culled hundreds of thousands to satiate your bloodlust, there was never an objective to be met in those cullings. You’ve ripped your way through the hordes of lowbloods pleading for nothing but equality and respect to gain the riches and fame you have now, and when word gets out of your failure to find and cull me as you promised you’ll be executed for failure to apprehend the threat you signed a contract for.”

“And what of you? Do you believe you are free from sin just because you participated in a holy war against an empire too old, too strong to defeat and used the sheer luck you had in avoiding recognition and imminent execution to continue rebelling in the shadows? Do you ignore the blood on your hands, the cull parties you failed to stop, the people you have walked over to gain the position you have now? Do you judge me for climbing over the same fallen bodies you have?”

“...No.” “And another thing-..excuse me?”

It was a simple answer. Plain. And yet the minute it left her mouth she looked as though she had been torn to shreds like a piece of paper a grub practiced art on before deciding it wasn’t good enough for their unreasonable standards. “I do not see myself as holier than thou. I do not believe I am morally above any of our guests, or you yourself. Everyone has their sins, and I am guilty of wrenching out throats to get to the top to the same extent. I have sacrificed others for myself, and I am drenched in the blood of innocents.” Her eyes have glossed over and she idly stares at you, paying far more attention to words and memories than you and the room you’re in.

You’ve had enough. You stand to leave and allow her to sit in her own regret, her own faults, and trauma. You have better things you could be doing. 

You freeze in your tracks as she grabs your hand and softly begs you not to leave her. “Wait- Please. I… I’m sorry. I got carried away. I didn’t mean to upset you. Stay for a bit longer. I.. Uh.” She falters at the sight of you. Fair. You’re quite upset. You rip her hand from her grasp and she lurches forward, wincing in pain and wobbling from nausea brought about by the sudden movement. Seating yourself on an old, soft, worn in sofa in the corner of the room, you try to relax. See things rationally. Which you’ve never had a penchant for.


	3. Chapter 3; The Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hedonist: wow press f to pay respects

==> Hedonist: Relax.

Minutes of silence pass by as the room goes still. You eventually swallow enough anger and pride to look at her again. She’s teary-eyed from stress and her face is tensed out of concern but exhausted at the same time. You take this quiet time to closely observe the room. It’s a soft baby blue with white wooden crowning and accents. The bed is made out of light colored wood with bedding and silk translucent curtains, color mimicking the walls. The sofa you’ve found yourself seated on is white velvet with floral accents that seem outdated but inviting. Pictures of close friends and her lowblood underlings cover the dresser adjacent to the bed behind the ever-so-popular wooden chair. This room stands out from the rest of her hive, her vibrant violet with golden trimming and mahogany wood. It feels serene. Peaceful. A drastic contrast to the burning anger that slowly begins to fade come the realization that you may not have much time left to finish this conversation. You’re pissed off, certainly, but you’re wasting your own time here. You reside yourself to the conclusion that she’s dying, and no matter how much you two don’t get along, you might as well let bygones be bygones. You’d like to forget this once it’s all over, you don't need anything to hand on to

You clear your throat to call her attention. She turns to you, eyes heavy and faint. “I’d like t-” She nervously fiddles with the bed sheets. “I… I think that..” Her voice is similar to when you first heard it today. Rough and quiet. What does that mean? “Was.. a little too much for me. I’m very tired, and I’m having some trouble hearing you. Please move closer.” You bite the inside of your cheek and place your hands on your knees, standing up. She grins softly. “I’m only Thirty-one and a half sweeps you know.” You can already hear her mocking your age despite only being 3 sweeps younger than you. You worry a little as she says nothing. Just… waits. “Nothing? Aren’t you going to call me an old man? An Idiot? Something?” She won’t look at you. A feeling hits the bottom of your stomach as part of you registers what's happening. 

You move to the chair beside her for the third and final time. You lean in and allow yourself to distance yourself from the tense feeling in the room. “I’d like to forgive you for ruining years of hard work, revealing yourself to me this way here and now. I don’t think I’ll be able to stop being bitter about this for a long time. But you’re dying. Faster than I expected. Is that why you’ve stopped talking?” Your voice is soft, putting years of manipulating and acting for crowds of generous highbloods with deep pockets to positive work, soothing someone for once. She nods solemnly. “I.. I can feel it coming. It’s certainly been an eventful day, but the pain medication is wearing off and I steadily grow more and more tired. It’s time.”

==> Hedonist: Say Goodbye to The Insurgent.

Her hand trembled as she grabbed onto your jacket and tugged. You, one final time, climb onto her bed and lean down towards her face. “I… I think I’d like to sleep now, Aiveas. I’m so exhausted.” You chuckle at the tone and hold her hand in yours as she re-adjusts her head on the mound pillows beneath it. “Hm. I see.” Her smile seems content, relaxed. As if she's been preparing for what's to come for a long, long time.

“Goodbye Aiveas. You shallow, self-centered, arrogant, genocidal maniac. I’ll see you in hell.” From anyone else, the words would be insulting. You would have denounced them on the spot. “Goodbye, Entert- In.. Insur-” She cuts you off. “My name, Aiveas... My... real name. You’ve known me for long... long enough.”

“Goodbye... Apollo. You needy, disgraceful, idiotic bitch.” She looks like she might laugh. She uses the last of her strength to tighten her grip on your jacket and bury her face into your chest, doing her best to embrace you. You slide your hands around her back, cradling her against you. You slide her forwards and keep your eyes on hers as her breath slows and she begins to shiver, despite the fact that she’s sweating. You place her back down and wrap her in the blankets around her, placing a hand on her forehead.

“Goodnight.. Aiv… e..as.” At the last syllable, her eyes shut and her smile softens. You remove yourself from the bed but keep your hand on her forehead. Eventually, her shivering stops, as does her breathing. You sigh as you feel the life flow from her body, leaving nothing but a still, calm, empty vessel of the troll you once knew. You process this, taking a moment to mourn before calling the crowd outside into the room.

They rush in, some collapsing on the spot, others sobbing into the shoulders of friends. You walk at a steady pace for the door. “Sir?” You turn to acknowledge the voice. It’s the same lowblood boy from earlier. Tear streaks on his face, he asks, “Have you been invited to the funeral?” You look back to Apollo, taking in her blissful features one final time. “No. No, I have not.” You say with a content smile. The lowblood looks confused but turns back to attend to the dead and the sobbing family. 

As you walk through those same halls that seemed so much darker earlier today, a sense of relief lifts your spirits. You get the feeling that she’s been awaiting release from this life for a while. Walking past those same cat figures and paintings, stroking your fingers on the smooth and shiny golden accents, spotting the picture of a young man with a colorless cape on the desk in her study, you exit the building and make your way to your automobile. The sun has set. You didn't realize how much time had passed. You remove your keys from your pocket and turn around one last time. “Goodbye, Apollo.” You say to no one in particular. “Sweet dreams.” 

In the strangest way, you’re happy you felt compelled to honor her request. Breathe in, Breathe out. You let her leave your life just as fast as everyone else. And you get the feeling that, wherever she is? She wouldn’t want it any other way.


End file.
